The Leap of Faith

The early morning sun, a gentle caress through the window, painted the dust motes dancing in the old room with a golden hue, their movements a shimmering ballet of light. From his bed, ‘Nge’yarr’ watched them, his gaze lost in their ephemeral dance. He held his hands before his face, turning them this way and that, the sunlight catching the fine hairs on his skin. Was this real life, or merely a figment of a nightmare from which he couldn't escape? He couldn't tell. His existence, buried for eight hours a day, six days a week, in the sterile world of ledgers and figures, had reduced him to a mere automaton, programmed by his surroundings. He hadn't found a way out of the trap of reality, or perhaps, more truthfully, he hadn't sought it.

"Yeint... Mother isn't feeling very well, dear." The soft, frail moan from the darkened corner of the room struck Yeint’s chest with the force of a swift blow. While some close friends and childhood companions affectionately added a syllable to his name, calling him "Nge'yarr," his mother never did. She wished for the entity known as "Hell" to cast no shadow over her son.

His mother knew, as he did, that the brave man his name suggested had no shred of courage left amidst the hospital bills, the medicine costs, and the mounting debts. A mere accountant's salary offered no recourse to bravery. That night, Yeint remained alone in his office. His fingers trembled as he stared at the company's secret bank account on the computer screen, alongside a calculator. He knew the nature of cancer; he knew it was a matter of time before his mother would have to let go. Yet, he could no longer bear the pain hidden behind her forced smiles, her attempts to mask her suffering.